NightClan's Survival: Darkness
by EutopianBroken
Summary: The cats of NightClan are happy to hunt among the shadows of night. Happy to train and thrive under a cloak of darkness. However prey is disappearing, and disappearing fast. The Clan is struggling, starving, and desperate. Patchpaw, the young medicine cat's apprentice of this Clan is unsure that the two prophesied kits can do anything about it, and who whouldn't be?
1. Prologue

_A soft breeze swept through the air. Pulling the soft, flame-colored leaves of leaf-fall in a bright array of colors. The moon was just a claw mark in the sky, rearing up to slash at the spray of stars that spanned across the darkness. Amongst the shadows below, a twig snapped._

A cat hissed in rage, lunging forward in desperation. Prey was few and far between, losing any catch was shameful. The mouse however, was lucky. Darting off to its burrow among a nearby tree's roots. No doubt to live another day.

"Fox-dung!" The tom hissed, dark grey tail lashing behind him. He let out a growl of displeasure, pale amber eyes glittering in the darkness. _Whatever cat had made that blasted noise would_ _ **pay**_ _._

"O-oh. S-sorry, Larkpond, "a familiar voice squeaked. The warrior's scrappy apprentice padded out of hiding.

"Sorry doesn't fill empty bellies. " The tom-Larkpond- quoted what his own mentor had told him. The remembrance of the old she-cat and his own wild antics however, reminded him not to be so harsh on the poor kit.

"Let's go." The older tom muttered, rising to his paws. Even in scantily thrown moonlight, his bones were prominent. Every ridge in his spine and rib on his side was clear. The NightClan warrior stood up and shook out his thick pelt. "Maybe we can make up for that loss?"

He flicked his long, bushy tail at the smaller cat with a father's affection and ducked off into the woods. Mind wandering. _Softpetal should be having her kits any day now, hunting was hard enough even without a few helpless kits to feed._

Larkpond shook the thoughts back. What was he thinking? Kits were precious, especially in a time as harsh as this. He smiled at the thought of it, a few bumbling little furballs _would_ brighten up camp. The tom twitched his whiskers as he glanced back at the black tom behind him. _Not to mention Waterpaw and Patchpaw were born almost nine moons ago, the clan had gone quite a while with no new life._

The tom shook his head in order to clear his thoughts. With one last lash of his tail, he leapt into the undergrowth.

 _On the other side of the valley, past a winding stream, and in a patch of brush a she-cat awoke with a screech._


	2. Chapter 1: Dreams and Introductions

Owlkit scurried out of the nursery. Hot on the trail of his sister, Palekit. He glanced around, kit-blue eyes flashing in the poor lighting. At last, he spotted his quarry. Palekit was dusty-grey, a shade that was considered unusually light by the darkness-dwelling Clan. Not that it mattered too much.

Owlkit himself was black with white toes on his front paws. He twitched his tail and laughed, bounding after the pale flash of movement. He slammed into his sister, rolling through the dirt and getting tangled up in the mass of warriors preparing for patrols. With a screech he was sent flying by a kick from the first-born and landed.

* * *

Splashkit watched in silence, letting out a huff of frustration. Her mother, Hawkfall, said that her older denmates played too rough. Never letting her precious daughter near them.

It was indescribably annoying and boring.

She let out a low growl. Tortoiseshell fur fluffed up bitterly. Why couldn't she play with them? Because her mother was an overbearing dungface, perhaps? Her eyes narrowed as she sat down. Pupils, dilated to allow her to see, shrunk to pinpricks in rage.

Splashkit was lonely, after all. She had no friends, and her only family was her overbearing mother. It would be so, so nice to be able to run freely. Paws stretching out before her, a close friend at her side. With a bitter sigh, she padded back into the darkened den for a nap.

* * *

Palekit pounced on a leaf. Her claws sliding out to cut the soft, weak material. She growled ferociously at the 'prey' and dug her teeth down in a 'killing bite'. Owlkit had long since gone to the nursery for bed, and the sun was just starting to rise.

Amber light stretched out over the forest, matching the dying leaves and staining her grey fur a dirty orange. Palekit blinked her eyes rapidly at the sudden exposure to light. She wobbled for a moment, making a decision. As soon as particularly bright light scored the mountains, she ducked inside her den.

* * *

Patchpaw sorted herbs, it was a cold night. Do doubt the first of many to come. She shivered, fighting back a yelp as an icy breeze pierced the wall's den. _Sleep,_ she thought _Sleep will help._ The small apprentice curled up in her nest, shivering all the way into her dreams.

Patchpaw opened her eyes with a jolt. She was no longer in her nest, but in a beautiful forest. The trees themselves appeared to be dripping with glowing rainwater, coating the grass and brush. She got up from what must have been the most comfortable nest of all time. Patchpaw knew where she was.

"W-where are you?" She called. In response a pale, glowing cat erupted from the undergrowth.

" _ **Pain is coming, Patchpaw. The hardest times draw near."**_

Before Patchpaw could say anything, the cat continued.

" _ **You must find the meadow, before it is too late. Two new**_ _ **"**_

"W-what are you talking about, and what's the meadow? "

But she was already awake. Patchpaw shuddered and turned over in her cold, empty nest. Void of the brilliant light.


End file.
